Witness (9 page)

In contrast was the specter of Danny, who had failed her and then left her feeling guilty ever since. Or was that guilt self-imposed? Danny probably hadn’t intended to crash into the Belgrade information booth with his truck and end his life that night, and if he had, he surely didn’t do it just to dump guilt on her. The timing did that. After she’d confronted him about the drugs, if he’d waited a week to get himself killed, she wouldn’t have hung on to the self-condemnation all these years.

The verse from Philippians nudged her again, like skywriting in her brain.
And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding…

Might that peace still be possible for her? Maybe the guilt she carried wasn’t necessary, though she’d made it an appendage that went with her everywhere.

Lord, if I can have that peace, show me. I’m tired of blaming myself. And I’m tired of being alone.

The rain beat on the window and sleep claimed her at last.

Joe jerked awake and opened one eye. Two a.m. He stifled a groan and shifted in his seat. Rain thumped on the roof of his car. Terrific. The passenger-side window was no doubt leaking again, and the floor mat on that side would be drenched by morning.

He sat up and arched his spine. Maybe he should just crawl into the backseat. But sleeping deeply would defeat his purpose. He squinted into the gloom and took a hard look at Petra’s house. He itched to creep around to the back, but two things kept him in the car. First of all, he didn’t want to get soaked and shiver all night. More importantly, she might be awake, too, and if she heard him sneaking around, as edgy as she was right now, things could go south in a hurry.

The clues, few as they were, cycled through his mind for the thousandth time. One eyewitness, whom the patrolmen had found less than credible. One upstanding citizen who argued occasionally with his wife. If Harwood just kept quiet, he could get away with murder. The problem was, Petra wouldn’t keep quiet, and that’s what would bring him down. Even if no one believed her, Harwood couldn’t take the chance. Someone might decide her story had merit and reopen the case.

The neighbors. Joe had told Nick how important it was to keep a low profile, but Nick had wanted to talk to all the residents who lived near Harwood. Somebody on the street must have told Rex or his wife about the two men who came around today asking questions. Plainclothes cops. That would set a guilty man off. Harwood had bluffed his way out of the initial investigation. So far, so good. But Petra hadn’t given up, and now some detectives were on it.

Joe thought about what he’d do if he were guilty. He’d try to send the witness a message that wouldn’t incriminate him. Shake her up a little. And if that failed, he’d have to shut her up. The mugger in the parking lot. That had flopped, if it were indeed Rex Harwood. All right, so he went for the dog. Hurting Mason would not only drive it home to Petra that she’d better keep quiet, but also it would remove her best warning system. If her dog died, there would be no barking to alert her if he sneaked over the fence to silence her.

Joe pulled in a deep, slow breath. He hated that scenario. Was it his own fault Mason had been poisoned? He’d begged Nick to take the case seriously, and this was the payback.

One other possibility wouldn’t quit nagging at him. He didn’t want to examine it closely, but he had to.

Petra could have imagined the parking lot scare. Her nerves were frayed, and she saw a man out there and felt frightened. What if he didn’t really chase her? What if he had no weapon, but was holding the keys to his own car? Or what if he simply didn’t exist? And what if Petra imagined—or made up—the night noises and the non-messages on her phone? In that case, how was Mason poisoned? Joe decided he would call the vet himself in the morning, just to be sure. The idea that Petra might have told him a wild story sickened him. She wouldn’t. She couldn’t. And if the dog wasn’t at the vet’s, where had she stashed him? In a kennel? Or worse? No, he wouldn’t believe that for a second.

But he would make the call. Just so he could tell Nick he’d covered every possibility.

The street stayed quiet. One car had rolled by since he took up his vigil. He leaned his seat back a notch and yawned.

T
he doorbell’s chime woke Petra and she sat up, her heart racing. Who would call this early? And why wasn’t Mason barking his head off the way he always did when the front doorbell rang?

The past night’s events came back to her in a rush. Mason. The vet. Joe.

Joe!

She sprang out of bed, grabbed her robe and tore into the kitchen. Standing on tiptoe, she peered out the window over the sink, through the filmy curtain. Joe’s black car was in her driveway. The bell chimed again and she went to the door and opened it a crack.

“Hi.”

“Hi.” His smile was a bit apologetic. “Sorry. I thought maybe I could take a look around before you go to work, and I didn’t want to frighten you if you heard me poking about.”

“That’s fine. I’ll get dressed and make some coffee. Did you have breakfast at Nick’s?”

“Uh, no.”

“Eggs and toast okay?”

“Fantastic.”

She nodded and smiled. “I can open the garage if you want.”

“Yes, please.”

She shut the door and locked it, went through the kitchen to the connecting door and opened it. She pushed the button to raise the overhead garage door, then ducked back inside. As fast as she could, she slapped a coffee filter and two scoops of Green Mountain into the basket of the coffeemaker. Everything else could wait until she was dressed.

Fifteen minutes later she took possession of the kitchen once more, feeling presentable in her uniform and more coherent. She saw no sign of Joe, but his car was still out front. Once she had the frying pan out and the table set for two, she detoured into the living room and pulled the drapes.

Joe knelt just outside the patio door, using a magnifying glass to study the deck where it abutted the house. He looked up at her and grinned. Petra unlocked the door, removed the broomstick she kept in the track for double insurance, and slid the door open.

“Good morning. Coffee’s ready.”

He stood and brushed off the knees of his khakis, but slightly muddy wet spots marred the fabric.

“Smells wonderful. Should I come in this way? The grass is still wet, and I don’t want to mess up your rug.”

“It’s all right.” She hesitated. “Or do you think…” She looked down at the carpet. “Did you find anything? I mean, if someone came in this way…” Her pulse accelerated. She’d known the possibility existed last night, as soon as the vet said the word
poison.
But the actuality of a person—a particular person—entering her home and hurting Mason terrified her. How could he have gotten in here without leaving evidence behind?

“Not this way,” Joe said.

She stood back and tried to stay calm. “Come on in, then.”

He stepped inside. “I think your little track jammer made things more difficult for your visitor.” He nodded toward the broom handle she’d laid aside. “Too many people don’t take that precaution.”

“So, no one came in here?”

“I didn’t say that.”

He followed her to the kitchen. Petra poured him a mug of coffee, and he leaned against the counter, watching as she melted a dollop of margarine in the frying pan and cracked three eggs into it.

“Runny or hard?” she asked.

He chuckled, and the lines at the corners of his eyes crinkled. “You’ve never been a waitress, have you?”

“Nope. What should I have said? Sunny-side up?”

“I’ll take mine over easy, thank you.”

“Not me. I like mine well done.” She poked the yolk of the egg she’d mentally designated as her own and let it run and congeal. “Joe, do you think this is related to the murder I saw?”

“It’s a strong possibility.”

“Then you think Rex came over here and poisoned my dog?”

“I haven’t ruled it out.”

Her hands trembled as she opened the bread bag and put two slices in the toaster. “What do I do? Can we convince the police he was here?”

He sipped his coffee then said, “We may never be able to prove Rex Harwood murdered anyone, but I suspect we’ll be able to prove someone broke into your house last night and harmed your dog.”

“Really?”

“The rain was pretty heavy in the night, but there were some indentations in the ground under a window on the west end of the house. Maybe footprints, maybe not. I think it’s the room where you have your computer. It’s a window that’s not completely hidden from the street, but in the dark it would take a sharp-eyed passerby to notice anything. I’d like to take another look inside that room this morning.”

“Sure. Anything.” The fear that had dogged her since last night made her chest hurt when she inhaled.

“I’ll check more closely in the laundry room, where you keep Mason’s food, too. If I find evidence of breaking and entering, we should be able to make a good case to the police that someone was here last night while we were at dinner.”

“You don’t think it could have happened earlier, when I was at work?”

Joe shook his head. “Mason was fine before we went out to eat. Bright eyes, lots of energy. I suspect whatever laid him low was a fast-acting poison, but I’d like to talk to the veterinarian about it.”

“They may not have the lab report back for a few days.”

“Okay. But you’re going to call this morning anyway, to check on Mason, right?”

“Yeah.” Petra glanced at the clock. “I’m not sure when they’ll be open. It’s not seven yet.”

Joe was eyeing her with a thoughtful, brooding expression.

“I guess I could call the emergency number again if they don’t answer the regular phone.”

“What’s the name of the pet hospital? Maybe I could swing by there after you leave for work.”

She gave it to him, and his brow cleared at once.

“So you don’t mind me talking over Mason’s case with the vet?”

“Of course not.”

His dimple came out when he smiled. Petra’s stomach did the little flip. She turned back to the stove to hide the confusion he’d caused. The eggs were starting to stick to the pan.

“Oops, looks like they’re over but not easy. Sorry.”

“That’s okay. I’ll get the toast before it burns, though.”

“What, you like that rare, too?”

They sat down together, smiling. Petra caught her breath. “Would…you like to ask the blessing, Joe?”

“Sure.”

His simple prayer of thanks resonated in her heart. She knew she’d found at least part of what she had lost. She was thankful for so many things—Joe’s presence, a new day and Mason’s life. For the first time in a long time, she wanted to give thanks.

When they had finished eating, Joe went out to his car and came in with a briefcase, which he carried into her study. Petra cleaned up the kitchen. It was nearly time for her to leave for the hospital.

Joe came into the room as she hung up her dish towel, and she turned to him eagerly. “Did you find anything?”

“Not much. A small clump of soil on the rug in there, but it’s so small I can’t say it proves anything.”

“He would have come in before the rain started,” she mused.

“Probably. Was that window locked?”

She started to answer, but then she caught her breath. “I think so, but it’s possible that it wasn’t. It was warm last week. I was in there one evening, using the computer, and I opened the window to get a breeze through. I try to keep all the windows locked, but…I guess I could have forgotten.”

“Well, it was locked when I checked it last night. If he came in that way, he most likely locked it behind him and went out the front door. Let’s take another look at Mason’s food.”

They went into the utility room, and he examined the bag of dog food and Mason’s dishes.

“Do you keep chemicals in here?”

“Just laundry detergent and bleach. Well, stain remover, furniture polish, stuff like that.”

“Show me where.”

She opened the cabinets beside the dryer.

“And nothing was open when you came in and found him ill?”

“No, everything was the way I always leave it.”

He nodded, looking from the cabinet to the mat where the dog dishes rested. “Nothing could have spilled in his food accidentally. I’d like to try for fingerprints on that windowsill in the other room and the doorknobs and Mason’s food dish, if you don’t mind.”

“You can do that?”

“Sure.”

“Okay. Then what do we do?”

“Not a whole lot if I don’t get anything solid. We don’t want to upset Mr. Harwood again. If I were still a cop…”

“You were a cop?” She stared at him, and Joe’s eyes flickered. She should have guessed. He had his own fingerprint kit, and his best buddies were police detectives.

“Well, yeah.” He set his briefcase on the washing machine and opened it. “I’ll need your prints, too, for comparison.”

Petra watched him with a growing certainty that he didn’t want to discuss his past as a police officer.

“So, what would you do if you were a cop now?”

“Well…” He took a plastic case from the briefcase. “I’d beg my boss to get me a warrant so I could go over Harwood’s family room properly.”

“Thank you, Joe. You know you’re the only one who believes me.”

“Well, you haven’t told many people. I’m sure if you told your sisters and your friends, they would take your word for it.”

“I don’t know.”

He eyed her keenly. “You know what you saw, right?”

She thought back to that night. The grisly image was still terrible, but not as vivid as it had been.

“Of course I do. And I keep reminding myself that if there was an innocent explanation—like two people practicing for a play or something like that—he would have told the police immediately. But he didn’t. The best he could do was suggest I’d seen a movie playing on his big-screen TV, as if I’d fall for that.”

Joe nodded. “It’s because of your memory and the specific details you gave me that I believe you.”

Tears filled her eyes. “I wish I hadn’t seen it.”

“I know. I wish you hadn’t, either.” He stepped toward her, and she found herself once more in his warm embrace. The strength of his arms around her brought more comfort than she could have imagined. For a moment she wished she could stay there and not face the day before her, but she knew that wasn’t possible.

She straightened and cleared her throat. “Do you want to take my prints now? I need to get to work.”

“Sure.”

He took out the ink and a card, and reached for her hand. Her pulse pounded, but she wasn’t sure if it was because of Joe’s touch or the thought of Rex Harwood coming in here and trying to kill her dog. She winced, and Joe looked up at her.

“You okay?”

Petra nodded. “Yeah. Just thinking. Can you lock up when you’re done?”

“No problem.” He pressed her fingertips to the card and rolled them, one by one, then released her hands. “All set.”

She went into the kitchen and washed her hands.

“Petra?”

“Hmm?”

Joe stood in the utility room doorway. “Okay if I take a little of Mason’s food to the veterinarian?”

“If you want.”

He shrugged. “I just thought it might help them if they saw what was supposed to be in his stomach. There have been cases where whole lots of dog food were poisoned in the manufacturing process.”

“Yes, I’ve heard of that happening. Do whatever you think is best, Joe.”

“Man, that’s a lot of bad luck for one person,” Nick Wyatt said.

Joe paid for coffee for both of them, and they carried it to a booth. “I know. Thanks for meeting me. I wanted to bring you up to speed.”

“You should have called me last night. You could have stayed at my house.”

Joe stirred a packet of sugar into his coffee. “I’d have worried about her.”

“So, the dog was actually poisoned.”

“No question. I spoke to the vet myself. He even let me see the pooch. He looks okay now—a little droopy, is all. Petra can pick him up tonight. But the doc said if she hadn’t brought him in pronto, he’d probably be dead.”

“That’s tough,” Nick said. “But you didn’t find any evidence of a break-in at her house.”

“Nothing definite. And no prints except Petra’s.”

Nick studied his face. “Is this getting personal?”

Joe put off answering for a few seconds by taking a sip from his cup. But Nick wouldn’t let him off the hook. They knew each other too well. “Maybe.”

“Watch yourself, Joe.”

“Right.”

“No, I’m serious. This could haunt you if she’s stringing you along.”

“She’s not.”

“You don’t know that yet.”

Joe sighed and stirred the coffee again. “Look, I can’t prove she saw a murder, but I believe her. She’s telling the truth.”

“Could be. And could also be she thinks it’s the truth but it’s not.”

“You think she’s nuts? You’ve never even met her.”